


Fine China, Rough Hands

by CydSA



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, POV Outsider, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3247886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missouri Moseley foresees her death. She asks for help from a couple of old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine China, Rough Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **Link to Art:** [LJ](http://waywardwhisper.livejournal.com/7718.html) [Tumblr](http://musingsofashley.tumblr.com/post/109429535352/next-up-for-the-reverse-bang-art-title-fine)

Missouri Moseley knew that her gift wasn’t one that was easily carried. The things she saw, the voices she heard, the dreams she dreamed were all the stuff of nightmares. Not much scared her anymore.

But, the day she dreamt of her death at the hands of an unseen force, she called Sam Winchester.

“Missouri?” Sam’s voice was deeper, slower, more careful than it had been ten years ago. She’d let him slip through her fingers then. 

“Sam Winchester, I need your help.” Missouri didn’t believe in prevarication. She called a spade a shovel and that was that.

“What do you need?” The instant willingness to come to her aid made her shoulders ease just that little bit. 

“Will you come to me?” she asked. She knew that the Winchesters would come. She’d heard the voice of John Winchester in her ear.

“On our way.” She could hear Sam moving around a room, snapping something closed.

“You’d best leave Dean at the bunker.” The silence on the other side of the phone had her holding her breath.

“No.” Sam’s voice was cold now. “I’m not leaving Dean behind again.”

Missouri closed her eyes. “You best come quick then, boy. Time’s runnin’ out.”

**

Missouri had always known that Sam Winchester was special. Dean? Not so much. But she'd been known to be wrong sometimes. Not often, but there had been times. 

There had always been something not quite right about the way the Winchester boys had looked at each other. John told her that she was imagining things. 

That _was_ her thing though. Seeing crazy stuff that wasn't visible to the eye. The ghosts, the demons, the monsters. And sometimes, yes, even the love that should have been wrong.

Sam and Dean Winchester loved one another more than any other thing in their lives. She knew they had died for each other again and again. Lucifer and Heaven itself hadn’t been able to keep them apart.

She reckoned they’d be here in less than an hour. Sam would make Dean drive that gas-guzzling black monster as fast as she was able to go.

Missouri sat back in her Great-Gammy’s Adirondack rocker. Generations of her family had been eased to sleep in this hefty piece of wood. She lifted her teacup to her mouth and took a sip. Nothing eased her nerves more than a good cup of tea. And even more so when she drank it from her mother’s finest china.

The devil strolled across her soul just then, icy-cold feet leaving patches of burning fire. The cup fell from her nerveless fingers and she clutched at her chest. 

“Hurry, Sam Winchester, you hurry now,” she whispered over the shattered pieces of china and soul.

**

“Remind me again why we’ve dropped everything?” Dean glanced over at Sam. 

Sam ignored the scowl on Dean’s face. “We promised Dad,” he said, staring out of the window as the road raced past. 

“And you’ve always been _so_ eager to listen to Dad.” Dean’s tone was bitter, making Sam look at him.

Dean’s mouth was firm and turned down. He wasn’t happy. “She needs our help, Dean.” Sam said it as though that was all the explanation Dean needed.

And once, a long time ago, it would have been. 

But these were new days. Sam called them the ADD (After Demon Dean) days, and Dean didn’t want to do anything but hunt the monsters. Helping people was merely a happy by-product.

“She lied to us, Sammy.” Dean thought that was enough. “She didn’t tell us about Dad.”

Sam shrugged. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” He’d become withdrawn lately. Sam not talking had never ended well for either of them.

“What's going on, man?” Dean reached over and poked Sam's thigh. It often gave him pause to look at the man his little brother had grown into. 

Sam met his gaze. “Nothing,” he lied.

Dean scowled. “How about no bullshit?” He’d learned _this_ lesson the hard way too. They needed to talk their shit out or things went to hell in a hand basket.

“Crowley has been quiet lately.” The change of subject surprised him.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Dean didn’t understand what Sam was getting at. A quiet Crowley was the best sort of Crowley.

Sam shrugged. “Could be.” He met Dean’s gaze. “He acted like a betrayed lover when you left him.”

Dean almost swerved off the road. “Goddammit!” He wrestled Baby back onto the tar. “What the fuck, Sammy?” He hadn’t expected anything like this.

“Crowley.” Sam kept his gaze steady on Dean. “Were you two more than just King of Hell and his pet knight?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean decided that this conversation would end up in him crashing the car, so he pulled over. “Crowley is a fucking demon!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So were you.”

Dean pressed his palms into his eyes. “It didn’t change….” He felt like he’d been having this argument for days.

“It changed _everything_!” Sam’s words were fierce, anger bubbling below the surface like lava. “No morals, remember, Dean? What else am I supposed to think?”

Dean reached over, shoved his hand into Sam’s hair and tugged his chin up. “You know better,” he growled, his own rage boiling over. “I fucked around, sure, but I didn’t fuck Crowley.”

Sam’s lip curled. “I don’t believe you.” He pushed away from Dean, hissing as several strands of hair were yanked from his scalp. “Crowley was a little too happy to tell me about your adventures together.”

“For God’s sake, Sammy.” Dean smacked his hand on the wheel. “Demons fucking lie!”

Sam turned away again, effectively cutting Dean off. “I doubt he lied about that.”

Dean grabbed at Sam’s arm, forcing him to look at him. “ _Now_ who sounds like a betrayed lover?” He wanted to kick his own ass when Sam shut down. He knew better. They didn’t talk about this. Not ever.

“Fuck you.” Sam’s reply was venomous.

“Dude…” Dean let Sam go, holding up his hand. “I was out of line.”

Sam shook his head. “Tell me how it felt. I want to know.”

Dean realized that Sam was going to ignore the last part of their conversation. It was an art-form they'd both managed to conquer. “What?” He could ignore it with the best of them too.

“What?” Sam played the stupid card and Dean wasn't letting this one go.

“What did it feel like?” For the first time, Dean wanted to tell Sam how he'd missed him, what he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed as a knight of Hell. He’d felt that part of him wasn’t there and it had only been when Sam had succeeded in bringing him back from the brink, that he’d realized that the missing piece was Sam. Would always be Sam. “When I wasn’t there, you mean? When I was a demon?”

Sam nodded.

“Empty.” Dean pulled back onto the road. “Invincible.” He remembered everything.

“Crowley wanted me to think…” Sam twisted his fingers in his lap.

“Well, you fell for it.” Dean didn’t let the anger bite in his voice, he let the hurt in though.

“You can’t keep leaving me and expecting everything to be okay.” Sam looked up at Dean through his fringe, eyes old and jaw tight. “I can’t pretend that we’re back to normal. I’m still trying to deal.”

Dean bit his lip. “I know.” He watched the empty road speed by. “I didn’t leave by choice.”

“Dean.” His name was like stone in Sam’s mouth. “The moment you took on the Mark of Cain, you chose to leave.”

Dean shook his head. “I thought it would make me stronger, better.” It had made so much sense when he’d become the Mark’s bearer.

“It did,” Sam agreed. “It also made you a psychopathic killer who died and became a demon.”

Dean flinched. “I’m sick of fighting about this.” He glanced over at Sam. “I fucked up, okay. I know. Can we just not?”

Sam sighed. “We’re not fighting, man.” He turned his face away, stared out the window, jaw set. “Whatever. It’s not like we actually ever talk things out anyway.”

“Sammy…”

But Sam was closed off now. And Dean was just too tired to push.

**

Missouri heard the growl of the big black car long before she spotted it. John Winchester had set such store by that machine. Now, it seemed Dean felt the same. Missouri wondered if there was a soul twisted into that pile of metal and chrome. She had a strong suspicion that the Impala was more than just a car.

She waited on the porch, arms wrapped around her middle as the cold within her spread in tiny little hitches. Her time was running out fast.

Sam got out first, his long, lean frame uncurling from the car in a slow arc. He’d grown up strong and true, she thought. A man no mother would be sorry to see her daughter with.

Dean swung the driver’s door open and it was like he exploded into the air. As silent as Sam was, Dean announced his presence like a scream. 

But Missouri could sense the fine chain of love and belonging threading between them. A cobweb thin line that was stronger than death. She shuddered. She was terrified and comforted at the same time.

“Missouri.” Sam’s greeting was slow and low, voice like molasses with a hint of the south.

“Sam Winchester. Boy, you grew up fine.” Missouri might have been old enough to be his mother but she wasn’t blind.

Sam’s mouth curled in a smile. “Thank you.” He glanced over at Dean, who slouched against the hood of the car. “You remember my brother?”

“A lady doesn’t forget a face like that.” Missouri stepped back, waving them forward. “Come on in, there’s coffee brewing.” She turned on her heel, expecting them to follow.

Her home was her sanctuary, the one place where the visions had never haunted her. Until now.

She watched Sam and Dean as they stepped over her threshold. Surprisingly, it was Dean who shivered, her wards brushing against him like electricity. Sam seemed oblivious.

“You have a nice place.” Sam had always been the diplomat. Dean looked around at the ornaments and pillows, at things that were so clearly feminine, lip curling just a little.

“Thank you,” Missouri met Dean’s gaze, allowing her knowing smirk to show. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

She indicated that they wait for her in the living room, heading back into the kitchen to get the coffee pot and cups. Sam and Dean were sitting gingerly on her settee, out of place in the room.

“How do you take your coffee?” She watched Sam look at Dean who was obviously biting back a smart-ass remark about black and strong like his women.

“As is, thanks.” Dean met Sam's gaze, eyes rolling.

Sam helped himself to cream and sugar, then sat back. “So, tell us about your problem.”

Missouri folded her hands on her lap, taking a breath. “You boys know about my visions, right?” They both nodded. Missouri nodded back. “So, I had a vision this morning, and I saw my own death.”

Dean's eyes narrowed as he sat forward, coffee forgotten. “Did you see who did it?”

Missouri shook her head. “It was dark, black as the pit and strong.”

“How did it kill you?” Sam had put his coffee cup down, body mirroring Dean's. “Did you see that?”

Missouri raised a hand, rubbing at her chest. “It felt like choking.” She didn't like to think of it, but it was why she'd asked Sam to come. “But not at my throat.”

Dean tipped his head to the side, watching her. “Not at your throat?”

Missouri looked at him sharply. “Do I stutter, boy?”

Sam put a hand over his mouth to cover his grin. Dean scowled at her. “You called us,” he reminded her.

She deflated a little. “So I did.” She lifted her teacup then, another piece of ancient china. She hoped that she wouldn't drop this one. “It was like I was suffocating from the inside out.”

She watched Dean look at Sam, eyebrows raised. “Ever heard of a monster like that, Einstein?”

Sam's lips thinned. He turned his gaze back to Missouri. “I'm not sure I've read any lore about something that suffocates from within, but then I don't know everything about everything.” The last was a pointed statement to his brother.

“You boys having some issues?” Missouri wanted them focused on _her_ problems, not bitching at each other like children.

Dean's glare was poisonous. Missouri didn't know who it was aimed at though, her or Sam. “We're good,” he snapped.

Missouri wondered at that when she got a look at Sam's face.

“If y’all are so good, then perhaps you could help me with my little problem?” Missouri didn't try to hide the sarcasm this time.

Dean gave her an approving glance. “Have you done a sweep?”

Missouri raised an eyebrow. “Dean Winchester, I know you're being a smartass 'n all, but can you pull your head out of your butt for a minute?”

Sam snorted a laugh. Dean shot him a scowl. It seemed that there were some issues that needed addressing. But then, the Winchesters had always been hard work.

“So, do you have any idea what it is?” Sam took over from Dean, a seamless moment that suggested years of this kind of interaction.

Missouri shook her head. “No. In all my years I've not felt something like this.” She put a hand to her chest once more, rubbed at the spot where it had felt as though her soul had been frozen.

Dean looked exasperated. “How are you expecting us to help you if you don't know what it is?”

She leveled a look at him. “Boy, are you trying to get on my last nerve? 'Cause if you are, then it's working.” 

Dean threw up his hands. “Look. Missouri, _you_ called _us_.” He propped his elbows on his knees, unconsciously moving closer to Sam. “We can't help you if you don't give us all the information you have.”

Missouri pinched her nose. She huffed out a breath. She wasn't used to being in this position. Being the one in need.

“I felt like something walked across my soul.” She tried to make them understand. “It wasn't like anything I've ever felt before. And you boys know the amount of crazy I've been dealing with my whole life.” 

Sam was the only one who nodded. “You'd be surprised what we've come up against since we last saw you.” 

Missouri pursed her lips. “Angels, leviathans, purgatory, heaven, hell, the devil?” She wasn't stupid. She'd been paying attention over the years.

Dean narrowed his gaze. “That sounds a lot like stalking. Ms. Moseley.”

Missouri wanted to smack the smirk off his pretty face. John Winchester had made her feel that way often too. ”What part of 'I'm psychic' are you not following?”

Sam laughed out loud at that. Dean shook his head. “Goddamit, you need to be straight with us right the fuck now, or else we're just wasting each other's time.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Dean Winchester.” Missouri lifted a finger, pointing sharply at him. “I have dealt with bigger trouble than you.”

“Dean.” It was just his name on Sam’s lips, but it made Dean back down, mouth thin and eyes flashing.

“I don’t know what it is,” Missouri repeated. “I don’t know if it’s a monster or a spirit. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, I just know soon.”

“Can we stop it?” Sam’s quiet question broke into the sudden silence like a pistol shot.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s always been hard to look at my own future.”

“You can’t see it?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “Don’t want to.” She shrugged. “We all know that dead isn’t always all the way, I just never cared to find out about my fate.”

“So how come you saw this?” Dean frowned.

“I have no idea.” And honestly, of everything, that was what frightened Missouri the most. Knowledge was power for someone like her. Not knowing was unbearable.

“What can we do?” This time it was Dean who asked her. There was something like compassion in his expression now. It was an emotion that should have not sat comfortably on his face.

“You’ve grown up, Dean.” Missouri held out her hands. “Show me.” It wasn’t a request.

“No.” Sam put his hand over Dean’s. “That would be a bad idea.”

Missouri met Sam’s gaze. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

Dean looked at Sam, who nodded. Missouri wondered just when Sam had become the leader of the Winchester brothers. Dean rolled up his sleeve, revealing the burn on his arm.

Missouri examined it. “What in God's name have you boys gotten mixed up with?” she demanded when she recognized the Mark of Cain.

“That story would take too long to tell,” Sam said. His eyes were bleak. “Suffice to say that Dean has been in a world of trouble.”

Missouri sat forward, peering into Dean’s eyes. “There is a death’s head on your iris,” she said, shaken. “What on earth have you been doing?”

Dean’s smile was wretched. “Raising a little hell,” he said. “Literally.”

Missouri shook her head. “I’ve not seen something like this in my life.” She stopped. “Not on anyone living, anyway.”

“I wasn’t for a while,” Dean told her. “Living, I mean. It’s been one hell of a ride.”

“Do I need to worry about the demons finding you?” she asked. “I don’t want to be dealing with the King of Hell on top of whatever is trying to kill me.”

Dean sighed. “I’m not going to lie and say that he won’t show up.” He met Sam’s gaze. “We’ve put some wards in place, hidden ourselves from the demons, as well as the angels.”

Missouri’s eyebrows went up. “And your little winged buddy? What’s his name? Castiel?”

Dean stared down at his hands. “He knows where the bunker is, but we’re shielded from him too.”

“Well then, perhaps we should get started on figuring out what is going to happen to me?” Missouri suggested.

Sam nodded. “Tell us what you've done so far, so that we don't repeat anything.”

**  
Dean watched quietly as Sam went through things with Missouri. He was content to sit back and wait until they were done. This was Missouri's show. Sam could handle her. Dean wasn’t good with people right now.

Sam asked a question about one of the tests Missouri had done. Her sharp reply had Sam' duck his head, hiding a grin.

Dean smiled. Sam needed more moments like that. He'd been fighting for so long thanks to Dean dragging him back into the hunting life all those years ago. Dean dropped his chin, he hated the constant guilt that he lived with since fucking Sam over, taking on the Mark of Cain.

“Dean?” He looked up to find Missouri and Sam watching him.

“Just thinking,” he said quickly. “I reckon that whatever is going on with you possibly isn't supernatural in origin at all.” He’d been ruminating on that thought for a while, paying heed to the multitude of questions Sam had posed.

Her eyes were sharp on him. “Say what you mean, boy.”

Dean shrugged. “I mean, you've done all the tests already. You'd have picked up a non-human influence, right?”

Missouri’s expression changed. She tapped a finger against her lip. “I’ve tested for demons, ghosts, vengeful spirits, witchcraft…”

“What about…?” Sam began.

“Hush child,” Missouri chided. “I’m thinking.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean who bit back a smile. “I’m just trying…”

“Sam Winchester, did I ask you to speak?” Missouri’s tone was irritated.

Sam held up his hands. “Fine.” He leaned back too, shoulder brushing Dean’s.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked under his breath.

“I’m good.” Dean nudged him with his shoulder. “You?”

“Good.” Sam nodded. “Sorry about the attitude earlier.”

Dean shrugged. “If I wasn’t getting ‘tude from you, Sammy, I’d think something was seriously wrong.” He let Sam see the relief in his eyes. They’d been fighting each other about crap for so long that Dean often wondered if they’d ever heal.

“Seriously man.” Sam met his gaze, honest, earnest. “I don’t want us to keep flogging this horse.”

Dean sighed. “I can’t take back the stupid shit I’ve done, dude.”

“I know.” Sam looked down at his hands. “Me either.”

“Clean slate?” Dean held his breath. Letting all their crap go, forgetting about it. He didn’t know if it was possible, but he was willing, so fucking willing, to try.

“Clean slate,” Sam agreed, holding out his hand. They shook solemnly, keeping their gazes locked.

“When you two are finished with whatever it is you’re busy with…” Missouri’s voice broke into their little bubble.

Dean turned to look at her. “Figure anything out?” he asked, sounding a little croaky. Damn emotions. 

“I think I maybe should go to a doctor.” Missouri’s face was grey. 

Sam was up and next to her in a moment. “You’re not feeling well?” His arm hovered over her, like he wanted to comfort her in an embrace, but knew it wouldn’t be welcomed. 

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she said softly. 

“You’re dying.” Dean met her gaze. He’d kinda guessed that by now.

“I think so,” she said. Then stood up, rubbing her skirt flat briskly. “Now, how about we take a ride in that black monster of yours? My doctor is about ten minutes away.”

xx

Missouri allowed Sam to help her up the steps when they got home several hours later. She felt drained and old.

“Do you want me to help you to your room?” Sam meant well, but it made her feel bitter and angry at the tall, healthy boy dawdling at her elbow.

“Do I seem like I’m going to blow over with the next wind?” She may have sounded a little sharper than she intended but her entire being was in shock.

“No, ma’am,” Sam answered automatically. “But…”

“I’ve not gone lame,” she retorted.

“You’ve had bad news.” Dean’s voice was so very gentle. It made Missouri want to scream.

“I have no intention of sitting back and letting the disease win.” She pushed Sam’s hand away. “I’m going to fight it.”

“Of course you are.” Sam seemed entirely certain.

“How are you so sure, child?” she whispered.

“Because our dad told us that you were the toughest lady he knew,” Sam lied.

Missouri let her head fall back, gave a deep gust of laughter. “Well, that now is just plain bullshit, boy. John Winchester never had no time for women.”

“Well, _I_ reckon you’re pretty tough,” Dean said.

She met his eyes. “You do?” Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could feel the rot deep within her body.

“You’ve seen things nobody should be able to see,” Dean said. “And you’re still mostly sane.” His smile flashed when she pointed a finger at him. “Plus, you got the better of our dad, so that right there is pretty tough.”

Sam nodded. “The doctors said that with more tests they could work out a treatment plan…”

Missouri held up her hand. “I’m not going to have some quack poking at me.” Dean opened his mouth. “Stop that right there, Dean Winchester!”

“I was just going to say that maybe you should get a second opinion.” His face was all innocence. Missouri knew that neither Winchester boy had been innocent since childhood.

“I know what to deal with now,” she said, shaking her head. “I have some ideas.”

“Don’t try to handle this yourself,” Sam urged. 

“I’m used to doing for myself, child.” Missouri patted his cheek. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

“We promised Dad that if you needed our help, we’d come.” Sam put his hand on hers. “We came despite that.”

She laughed again. “John Winchester raised a couple of hellions,” she noted. “Now get on with you. And stop pussy-footing around me and each other.”

“What?” Dean’s startled eyes lifted to hers.

“I’m old,” she said. “Older,” she amended. “I’m not dead or blind.” She kept her hand on Sam’s cheek and held out her hand to Dean. “Come here.”

The reluctance in Dean’s face was tangible. “No magic or woo-woo crap,” he warned.

“You hush now,” she ordered, linking them together.

The rush of love and emotion and hurt blasted through her in a tidal wave. She sucked in a breath and held on.

xx

Dean watched Missouri’s face. Her eyes were closed.

_”Dean Winchester, you pay me heed now. It's time you faced some hard truths about you and your little brother.”_

Dean flinched as Missouri's fingers tightened around his.

_”Your Sam is the only way to save your soul. He's the only thing that keeps you human. You hold him close and pay no mind to how the world looks at you. Love is always the answer.”_

Dean pulled his hand free, sucking in deep breaths. He felt scrubbed raw, insides exposed and bleeding in the air.

Sam was beside him, arms around him and clasping him close. “Dean! You okay? Dean?” The panicked tone in his voice was the only thing that snapped Dean out of his mini melt-down.

He shook Sam's arms off him. “I'm fine.” He glared at Missouri. “What the hell was that?”

Missouri's eyes were dark and knowing. “Just a little nudge in the right direction.” Her face was serene. “Sam, I could use that hand to my room now, if you don't mind?”

Dean wasn't happy about it. He watched Sam carefully help Missouri to her bedroom. A murmur of voices and Sam came back out, closing the door quietly.

“What did she say?” Dean demanded.

“Told me to get some rest,” Sam said, sitting down next to Dean. “Said we were going to need it.”

Dean puffed out a breath. He wasn't sure how he felt right now. “She's a little bit crazy, Sammy.” He thought that might be understating it a little.

“Yeah, but thanks to Dad, she's part of who we are.” Sam had that stubborn look again, jaw set.

“You realize she's not family, right?” Dean peered at Sam.

Sam avoided his gaze. “She's sick.”

Dean groaned. “Goddamit, Sam. Not every broken thing needs to be saved. It's not like we've got a cure for cancer somewhere in Dad's journal.”

Sam scowled at him. “You don't know that there isn't.”

Dean shook his head. “She's accepted what's going to happen, man. Didn't you see her face when she came out of the consulting room? Whatever he'd suggested, she'd already decided to do her own thing.” Dean respected that. Die in a blaze of glory had always been his preferred way to go. Maybe Missouri had a plan like that.

“You're being an asshole,” Sam told him.

“I'm being a realist,” Dean insisted.

“Why were you so freaked out when she touched you?” Sam changed tack so fast Dean could barely stop himself from blabbing.

“Nothing,” he grunted.

“Fuck you,” Sam snarled. “I know she said something to you, but if you'd rather lie to me, again, then fuck you.” 

“Sam...” But Sam was gone, heading into the kitchen to make tea for the psychic lady who saw far too much.

xx

“I think you should leave now,” Missouri told Sam when he brought her a cup of tea.

“I can stay a while,” Sam said, hitching a hip up on her mattress.

She smiled at him. “Don't you be an ostrich now, Sam.” She tapped his hand. “Your brother has bought shares in the River Denial, but you're smarter than that.”

Sam stared down at her hand on his. “He doesn't get how scared I am about the Mark,” he whispered.

“He's a stubborn fool, just like his father,” Missouri agreed. Her face softened. “But you're the smart one, aren't you?” She smiled. “Even though your heart more often than not leads your head into all sorts of trouble.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing,” Sam tried to explain his brother's foolishness.

Missouri could spot an idiot at ten yards. “Dean has always been too impulsive,” she said. “And you've always been content to follow him.”

“He's my brother.” Sam's answer was simple. “I'll pretty much follow him anywhere.”

Missouri sighed, shaking her head. “Ah, you Winchesters, your greatest strength is your biggest weakness.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, each other.”

Missouri grabbed Sam's chin, forced him to look her straight in the eye. “Now listen to me, child. Your brother is going to need you in the coming days. The effect of the Mark will wear on him, eat at him. Demon-blood addiction is nothing to the power that the Mark can exert. It's up to you to keep him grounded.”

Sam snorted. “He never listens to me anyway.”

She waggled his chin, “You make him listen, boy. Love makes you care for one another's ideas.” She watched Sam's cheeks turn pink. “Oh please, as if I'm blind and stupid,” she scoffed. “What goes on with the two of you is between the two of you. I'm not your judge.” 

Sam looked a little like a deer in the headlights. Missouri found it amusing. “I...we....I mean...”

“Love is love, Sam Winchester. The life that you lead means you don't get to have normal. If that means you get to have abnormal, then so be it.”

“It's not like that.” Sam's protests were weak and they both knew it.

“Well, no matter,” Missouri smiled. “Now, I've pretended to be a weak old lady for long enough.” She swung her legs off the bed. “It's time for you boys to leave.”

Sam gaped at her as she shooed him from her room. Dean's head shot up when he heard them. Missouri could read the resentment and anger that bubbled below the surface.

“Thank you both for coming,” Missouri folded her hands in front of her. “It's good to know that John Winchester's boys keep their promises.”

“That was _his_ promise, not ours,” Dean reminded her.

She nodded. “Nevertheless, you kept your daddy's word and that means a great deal to me.”

Sam nodded. “It was good to see you,” he said. “Even if we couldn't help you.”

“You came,” she said. “That's all that matters. Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired, and there are many plans to be made for taking on this monster inside me.” She set her face. “I think this is goodbye for good.”

She could see Sam's instinctive protest, Dean's stoic acceptance. Two sides of the same beautiful coin, she thought. 

Sam kissed her cheek. “You call me if there's anything you need, you hear?” he ordered.

“As if I'll need anything from the likes of you,” she teased. “Thank you, Sam.”

Dean hung back as Sam headed to the car. “I'm sorry,” he blurted.

“What for?” Missouri asked. “You didn't make me sick.”

“I don't trust people like you,” Dean admitted. “I don't know if I ever will.”

“I don't need you to trust me,” Missouri told him. “I need you to listen though.”

Dean's mouth twisted. “So you're telling me that my brother is my salvation?”

She sighed. “As you are his, Dean. As you are his.” Stupid men with their inability to understand things. Missouri just hoped that understanding wouldn't come too late for them.

“Okay.” Dean stood there, scuffing his boots like a little boy. “Well.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” Missouri took pity on him and sent him on his way.

“Goodbye.” Dean's gaze was very steady. “I hope you beat it.”

“I'll let you know,” she promised. He hurried down the stairs then, away from her, towards the car, towards Sam.

She watched the Winchesters drive off. There was a lot of work to be done. The shadow hadn't been what she'd expected, but she was glad they'd come today.

The dark within spoke to her, whispering its promises of death and decay. She decided to ignore it for a little while longer. They’d be doing battle soon enough.

xx

Sam turned to Dean as they took the turn onto the highway. “What she said...” he began.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “I'm not going to talk about it.”

Sam huffed. “You can't keep avoiding the subject, Dean.”

“Oh, but I can,” Dean insisted. “I am so on the avoidance train right now, all the way to Whatthefuckville.”

Sam shook his head. “Don't be an asshole.” He waited for Dean to say something but the silence grew in the car until it had a life of its own.

“What you did back there.” Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't wired to talk about things like this. Dean even less so. “It was a good thing.”

Dean scowled at the road, refusing to meet Sam's gaze. “Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

Sam clenched his fists. Dean in this kind of mood was a special sort of dickhead. “Because it's a big fucking deal, you fuckhead!” He'd been pushed too hard today. Dean being obtuse and refusing to deal with what had just happened, was not helping.

“She's the walking dead, Sammy.” Dean's blunt words made Sam flinch. “I was just being kind. Ain't nothing else we can do for her now.”

Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose. “She asked me to look out for you.” 

“I don't care what she told you in your special secret meeting,” Dean spat.

And there it was, in all its glorious green majesty. Dean had been cut out, cut off and he was pissed.

“Missouri knows about how dangerous the Mark is,” Sam tried to explain. 

Dean held up a hand. “I put psychics at the crap end of the scale along with witches, demons...”

“And clowns,” Sam added, his mouth curving up a little.

Dean's surprised bark of laughter was reward enough. “And clowns,” he agreed.

“She told me to look out for you.” Sam repeated, not looking at Dean now. He kept his eyes on the road scything past. 

“Did she really?” Dean sounded thoroughly skeptical.

“She said that you would need me more in the coming days than ever before.” Sam folded his arms across his chest, holding back the fear.

“That's not a new thing, dude.” Dean's quick admission made something warm inside Sam. 

“It's mutual,” he blurted.

Dean slanted his gaze over to Sam. “What is?” He asked the question already knowing the answer.

“I need you too.” Sam's voice was small.

Dean reached out, dropped his palm on the back of Sam's neck. “That's who we are Sammy. That's _how_ we are.”

Sam nodded, leaned into Dean's touch and let the world fade away. He remembered the line about Missouri in Dad's journal: _“I went to Missouri and found the truth.”_

He'd found his truth today. He was okay with it. Dean had always been his truth.

Dean flicked a smile at him and shoved a cassette in the radio. “Smoke on the Water” punched through the air and for that moment, everything was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Alpha/Beta:** the wonderful **SPNthoughts** stepped up to help. Thanks so much hun ♥ All mistakes are mine.
> 
> **Notes:** I wanted this art by **waywardwhisper** as soon as I saw it. I felt that Missouri had a story to tell. Her tale was not fully told. Perhaps this is a suitable ending for her character. 
> 
> Written for the 2014/2015 SPN Reverse Big Bang here at **spn_reversebang**


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